spin
by Blame-It-On-The-Alcohol
Summary: Heartbeats don't mean anything. For Caesar's Palace Colour Challenge: Blue.


_**spin **_

**This is for 'blue' in the Caesar's Palace Color Challenge. Enjoy! x**

Her hands reach out and touch the sea.

She smiles, because she knows she's dreaming; the sea is in that far-off place. Her memories have been blotted and smudged by what looks suspiciously like bloodstains, but she tries to remember. District...Four, that was it. The sea is in District Four, but it might as well be on Mars. This arena isn't part of Panem; it's something else entirely, chokingly small and yet it becomes your entire world in a scarily short time.

The words she said to them, the blurred people that set off a spark in her heart and deepen the green in her eyes. The words she said that turn to silver fish when they hit the water, slipping from her grasp and spinning into the shadows of a dark rock, or a deep cave.

"_I promise I won't lose myself."_

She tried, she really did – but then his eyes went glassy and her head started to spin. It hasn't stopped; the world's a sea now, blues and greens and sometimes reds, but that's why she smiles in her sleep, because she forgets. From the second she stroked the mossy wallpaper clinging desperately to the waterlogged cave walls, and realised it felt just like her duvet back home...she knows she'll never leave. It almost seems like a new home. Twisted, deformed home.

She thinks of it. Sea. The hermit crabs that padded over her feet; it never occurred to them to strike, unlike the children here. Humans to them were just strands of seaweed, floating in and floating away again. Insignificant, but pretty as the sunlight caressed their skin.

(except for the ones that wrap around your neck and pull until black takes over)

Eyes flicker open, and instinctively she reaches for the sea to try and pull herself back into blissful amnesia. Unlike normal, however, her fingers come back wet, and they aren't rust-coloured. She's floating, and the waters swiftly spin her around in a lover's grasp and carry her like a baby out of the cave. She half-heartedly swipes for her rucksack, before realising she'll never need to use it.

The first cannon breaks the semblance of peace. She doesn't bother keeping score anymore; she already knows which team's going to win.

Idly, her mind wanders. Her clothes are heavy; she's optimally streamlined at the moment, but the slightest adjustment and she'll plunge like a lead weight. Close her eyes as the seabed rocks her into pretty sleep, with no waking to darken her dreams.

She hears three cannons, almost simultaneously, and quickly twists her arm before it's too late. She's judged it perfectly; the waters end their embrace and rush on without her. She smiles as she drifts.

Broken pictures flit across her irises, all blue and green and spinning. But it's a good kind of spin. It doesn't hurt.

* * *

Finnick Odair stands, speechless and still, as the little girl (well, she's fifteen, but she just looks so _vulnerable _and it cracks his heart along the long-established fault lines) settles, seaweed blades twining through her hair. She looks like an angel, and makes his blood run cold.

She _promised..._

He snatches up an executive toy, a comedy mug, a vase of flowers, and send them careening towards the walls. Lukewarm tea splatters the moss-coloured wallpaper, dripping pitifully into the floorboards. A piece of debris slices his finger. He doesn't notice, just keeps his eyes trained carefully on the screen, where the cameras have got her pretty face from three different angles but won't do anything to save her smile.

The last shards fall just as the cannon fires.

His face is expressionless; he's worked it out over time, they'll take everything but his pain. That's his to own and despise. Inside, though, he's screaming so hard he's surprised they can't hear. They hear everything, don't they?

It's like that old song.

_The Capitol, The Capitol, see the sounds and hear the sights, _

_For all your money they'd set the sky alight,_

_Then draw your dreams as you sleep tonight._

Control over everything is all they desire. And now they have everything, all they desire is to make us never forget it, he ponders bitterly. He blinks twice, hard, to remove the remnants of bitter tears, and tugs a hand through his bronze hair without thinking. As he does, he hears the clatter of something on the ground. A coin from his back pocket.

He kicks it viciously, but as it flies, he thinks. His eyes widen and flicker back to the screen. Pictures of her face intertwine with pictures of the District One boy and District Two girl, struggling against the lonely, bitter tides trying to ensnare them.

He hurriedly checks his watch. Two minutes. She's been underwater for two minutes. He dives for the phone and dials the number. He dials it all the time, but now it's for a very different reason.

* * *

"_Blackberry Electric speaking." _The clipped consonants and drawn-out vowels send revulsion deep into his spine, but he speaks smoothly.

"_Berry. My dear."_

"_Finnick? Is that you? I don't have an...appointment until next week."_

"_Berry, you have a direct line into the Gamemakers' office, don't you?"_

"_What are you talking about, Finnick?" _Her soft, vaguely lustful voice has become nervous. It's 'illegal' for 'citizens' to interact with Gamemakers, but that doesn't stop anyone.

"_Don't bullshit me, Berry. Get me Tyne before I feel tempted to do a little...rumour-spreading." _He checks his watch, panicked. Two minutes fifteen seconds. _Only three needed to do serious brain damage._

After a shocked pause, he hears her dialling, and exhales slightly. He doesn't have time to feel guilty, and he wouldn't anyway.

Soon, the gravelly, charming voice comes on the line, a quality to it as hard as granite.

"_Odair."_

Already he can feel a gun at his back. Whether it's real is irrelevant.

"_Tyne, you know I can get the funds. There isn't much time!"_

Pause. A torturously long one. He can just imagine the smirk on Tyne's face. Bastard.

"_You know, this could be construed as...illegal." _

"_I'll cover the tracks. Just fucking do it!"_

As soon as the words tumble out of his mouth, Finnick Odair knows he's made a terrible mistake. You don't order Gamemakers to do anything.

Voice, cold as ice.

"_You might want to change your tone, Odair."_

Line goes dead, and he wonders why the world hasn't collapsed in on itself yet.

* * *

_The spinning's slowed to a gentle rocking she's barely aware of. She can't think, she can't breathe; but inside she's dancing._

_A vague name floats past. Finn...ick. The name is uncomfortable, so she lies to herself that she's forgotten what it means._

_Truth is, even now, that could never be a possibility. _

_Another part of her mind slips away, as something dark becomes visible in the water._

* * *

He watches the screen, hazy with disbelief, as the corpses of the District One boy and District Two girl are plucked from the, ironically, now calm waves. Their hands are locked together. He doesn't have time to feel guilty, even if he could.

Then, his girl (although he's not sure she is anymore), somehow limp and stiff at the same time. Her face isn't peaceful, it's almost angry. Angry at him? He supposes so.

Her heart still beats, but that might be all there is. He checks the watch. Four minutes. He could have done it sooner, of course, but he wanted to teach him a lesson. Finnick knows he deserves it, and also knows she'll be paying for his mistake; he hates himself anyway, what does it matter?

He still hopes for a miracle he won't get.

The camera pans. His girl is spinning in the clutches of the hovercraft, and the camera spins with it. He feels like he's spinning too, faster and faster until everything fades away. Or maybe he just wishes.

Almost robotically, Finnick Odair rises from his chair, heart pumping and aching in equal measure. Whether Annie Cresta is still in that shell that looks like her or not, he plans to be there when she wakes up.

_(If.)_

**Writer's block over! Hallelujah. Hope you like my little fic.**

**Kara x**


End file.
